


Gale Song

by Nalax



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Dystopia, F/M, Hunger Games, Hurt/Comfort, POV Gale, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalax/pseuds/Nalax
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happened to Gale during the 74th Hunger Games? Or how he reacted to the events taking place in game? Left alone in the absence of Katniss, Gale works to protect his families, battle his grief, and forge new friendships. As the game progresses, tensions rise in District 12 and Gale is faced with the sparks of a rebellion he had always hoped for but never prepared for. Told from the POV of Gale, witness the 74th Hunger Game retold from a new perspective and find out what happens when the only home Gale has ever known is shattered.





	Gale Song

_“Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_  
_Here is the place where I love you.”_

-x-

When I wake I am greeted by a sweet lullaby. My mother is singing and it echoes throughout the hallways of our home as the welcoming sign of a new day. The sun is peering out from behind the shudders which secure my hiding place. I have slept in again. I have been sleeping away most of the mornings since The Reaping, spending the cold winter nights lying wide awake in bed fighting the truth that had followed.

  
I sit up in my bed and stretch my arms out in front of me. My body is sore from hunting the day prior but it was not enough to stop me from hunting again today. I desired to be in the woods, the only true home I have ever felt attachment to. With the sweet smell of Earth, the woods promised freedom. And even though I knew it was that of a snake’s promise, it was an addicting one.

  
I pack my bag with snares and a few spare arrows for the bow I would take with me. I was never good at hunting with a bow, but she was and I had been practicing my aim. The challenge made me feel closer to her and it was this competition that was keeping me sane.

  
Snare traps had not provided enough to fill the stomachs of my family even before she went away and now I had two families to feed. I need to step up my game if I am going to keep up the facade that everything is okay.

  
I walk out of my room and find my mother working away in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread is intoxicating to me. There was nothing to compare to my mother’s baking. She appears cheerful and lost in her work, humming to a tune and moving along with more grace than I had in my entire body.

  
“Good morning,” I smile at her and she returns it.

  
“Hunting?” She asks.

  
“Hunting.”

  
I walk to the door to strap on my boots. No one ever indulges me on my trade, even though we all know it is an illegal one. The Reaping was a silencing burden that weighs heavily on all of us.

  
My mother waits until I am willing to talk but talk is cheap when there is work to be done.

  
As I open the front door to step out into the Seam, Rory appears from the hallway. He is never late to his queue.  
“Gale,” His voice is a whine. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, “Where are you going?”

  
“Woods.”

  
“Why are you going without me?”

  
I sigh at him and the gnawing of frustration bites in my throat, “You know you aren’t allowed to go with me.”  
“Why?” He is still in his pajamas. It is a futile attempt to try and convince me to take him into the heart of my work when he has not even bothered to take the steps to prepare if I am to agree.

  
“You know why, Rory, it is too dangerous for you. The wasps may sting.”

  
Wasps mean Peacekeepers and sting means trouble. Rory begs me to take him hunting with me and I always resolve to promising another time. However, these promises are hollow. I won’t take my brother with me for fear of him getting himself hurt or worse the Peacekeepers coming for us. It is unlikely the Peacekeepers will ever do anything to stop the stray hunter from venturing outside of District 12 because they liked fresh meat it brought as much as anyone else, but it was still a possibility. I take the risk of going into the woods, even after the Reaping, because it was means of survival.

  
I also didn’t want Rory disrupting the only peace I had left.

  
Rory huffed, his tone filled with disappointment, “Katniss said I could go.”

  
“Well, Katniss isn’t here,” I find my words are harsher than I mean them to be but step out into the Seam, anyway, making sure to close the door firmly behind me.

  
I walk alone through the street of an early rising Seam. No one bothers to talk to me or to glance in my direction. The only eyes I find anymore are cast by apologetic neighbors who feel sorry for my loss. I know they mean well but they echo words from when my father died.

  
I refused their conclusion that Katniss was already dead. Even if the rest of the District goes to give up on her, I know Katniss is going to come home and I am going to be there when she arrives.

  
Katniss will be back in the Spring and I mean for her to be met with healthy smiling loved ones not broken spirits and apologies for why they hadn’t believed in her.

  
I sit down my bow outside the broken length of fence that I have been using for years to escape the District. The fence, once electrified, has been left dead since the head Peacekeeper, Cray, had decided to shut it down to preserve power. Living in the District furthest from the Capitol meant frequent power outages but also less watchful eyes on the boarder.

  
I was grateful to Cray for this, but it was the only good opinion I had of him. Otherwise the old man was a disgusting drunken pervert who preyed on the bodies of starving young women, the typical Capitol rat.

  
I force my exit through the loose fencing and into the familiar territory of the outskirts of District 12. I wait and listen for the sound of boots from a Peacekeeper but none come and so I walk further into the woods.

  
As I walk along my path, I hum to an old tune that Katniss would rarely sing for me deep in the woods when we would stop in our clearing for lunch. She once told me the name of the song was _The Meadow Song_. Even with such a simple name, the song was haunting and beautiful when sang from her lips. I wish she was walking beside me now so that I could hear her sing to me again.

  
I have been wishing a lot of things since she left.

  
Even though I tried my hardest to keep her out of my thoughts she still found her way into them. I wonder what she is doing right now and I hope that she is okay, that nothing has harmed her. It is a white lie myself, which I tell every time she comes to haunt me. Of course she is suffering, she is lost to the entertainment of the Capitol.

  
I hate the Capitol. I hate the president and his people with every fiber of my being. They are to blame for what happens and for the poverty of my entire District.

  
I find their poison reaches out and taints even the deepest hiding places. Amongst the sound of the birds, the rippling song of nearby streams, I find it there. What they have taken from me they will never repent for.

  
The bow I hold is a rarity and has grown to be my most prized possession. It was crafted by the worn hands of Katniss’ father who made and sold them right under the nose of authority. He ran a small operation out of his home because if found out he would have surely have been brought to his death. Katniss gave me this bow as a birthday present years ago and I had not given it the appreciation it deserved then. Now it is the closest thing I have to filling the hole she left, so I hold it safely by my side whenever I venture out with it.

  
I desperately seek to feel her near to me even though she is thousands of miles out of my grasp.

  
I make my way down to my usual spots to place my snares. When I had first ventured into the woods, after my Father’s death, I had been unskilled in trapping and hunting. It took years to perfect my craft, but in the first couple of months I had begun to learn where the best places to trap were and what kind of game I could expect from them. The occasional small deer, rabbits, birds, and even frogs were common in the woods; abundant in population for the huntsman who knew where to find them.

  
I never catch enough to feel comfortable, so I take leftovers to Cray to sell because he has enough money to spare for them. Times had grown tougher since Katniss was gone. I was faced with the task of feeding Prim and Mrs. Everdeen in her absence. It was the promise of protection of them that I could offer and I dutifully fulfilled it.

  
I regret not offering myself up in the place of that boy, Peeta, the day of the Reaping. If I would have just stuck my hand up, shouted that I volunteered, then I could be with her now. I would have done anything to make sure she would be the victor. Instead, I had stopped Prim from foolishly trying to follow her onto stage. It had been the task of a lifetime to force Prim home and I learned her strength with the beating from her fists on my back. I knew Katniss would have never been okay if anything were to happen to Prim.

  
Protecting Prim became my top priority that day.

  
I find my way to the clearing Katniss and I shared. I climb the hills to sit where we had been only two weeks prior. It feels like a lifetime now.

  
“You and I, we could make it,” I say to no one but myself. I take my bag of berries from my backpack to snack on.  
I promised Katniss a life of running and hunting outside of the District before she left. I wish I would have forced her to follow me but she had refused as she always had.

  
Katniss was more practical than I. She always had some reasoning to explain like how our families needed us, how the District needed level minded people like us to keep them all sane. I suppose I am the dreaming kind, eager to place my bets and take my chances if it means not being a doll to the capitol any longer.

  
I met Katniss on a cold day like today when we were awarded the Trophy of Valor, much better described as a consultation prize for children left fatherless. Both our father’s had been killed in a mining accident and that had left us to become the sole providers of families left with nothing to fill the hole left or fix our broken hearted mothers. My mother, Hazelle, had stepped up and done her best to craft trinkets an bake goods she could sale at the market, while Katniss’ mother had swallowed herself in grief and refused to leave her bedroom.

  
Katniss and I became hunters.

  
I hadn’t known she was in the woods until one day when I heard the whipping of a trap activating followed by an abundance of cursing. When I had inspected, I found Katniss fumbling to get herself out of my snare. I helped her without even asking her name because she looked far to thin to be anyone of authority. I remember that she had turned to leave without even offering gratitude. It has been as if she had known I was there in the woods with her the entire time.

  
“What’s your name?” I asked when she had turned to leave.

  
She had turned back to me with the same smoldering intimidating eyes she had used to burn holes in me during every argument since. “Katniss,” She whispered.

  
I remember that I laughed so hard I cried. It was the most sincere laugh I had shared with anyone in such a long time that my lungs felt like they were going to collapse. I had not laughed since my father had died.

  
She was perturbed by my humor and snapped back, “What’s so funny?”

  
“You’re name is Catnip?”

  
I has been awarded with a laugh in return and for the first time I saw her smile. I fell in love with that smile immediately and for the next few years of making her my friend I made it my sole mission to get her to smile for me.

  
“No, no. My name is Katniss. Kat-niss.”

  
I smile thinking back on the memory. That interaction had earned her a lifetime of nickname calling from me. _Catnip_. It had been even more rich when a lynx had begun to follow her in the woods as we hunted. The day she killed that lynx was a sad one. Even though Katniss never admitted it, I would not be surprised to learn that she cried over it.

  
Under a hard exterior she had always reserved a soft place for the innocent, which was one of the sole reasons Buttercup the cat had been allowed to live and feed off of her scraps for so long. It was also because Prim loved the mangy old cat and what Prim loved Katniss was forced to learn to accept.

  
I wish she was here with me now. The aching in my chest has not left me since she left and it was growing stronger with the days. I wonder if I could die from it, have a heart attack and stop breathing, just because she was gone. It was funny how the connection I felt with her could hurt so badly in her absence. There was nothing worse to compare it to other than when my mother had broke the news to me, huddled along with my siblings in the living room, that our father had died.

  
The sun was beginning to set and so I pack to begin to walk back to the Seam. As with every night after a reaping, the games were shown on a massive screen with loud speakers so that all of District 12 could hear no matter how tightly drawn in the shudders. I hate to watch what happened. It is a nightmare to watch Katniss suffer, but watching was the support I have to offer her. When she returns I want to be able to tell her that I could understand something about what she has been through.

  
I am not ignorant to how things will change when she comes back. No matter who she becomes, even if she is to become a shell of a person as her mother is now, I will be right by her side. Nothing will change about the way I feel about her. And after Katniss is able to settle in back at home I will finally tell her how I feel about her.

  
I wish I would have told her before she left how much I love her, but the words sat at the end of my tongue in fear of her rejection. This time would be different. If I had learned anything since Katniss had been taken away it was how hollow and pointless my life feels without her.

-x-

I arrive home to sit down my things before heading off to watch the games. I am greeted by the twisted angry face of my younger, Rory, still whining about how I didn’t take him with me. His words fall on deaf ears until I am ready to leave. Rory grabs me by the end of my sleeve as I walk to the door.

  
“Can I come with you _now_?”

  
I sigh and nod to him. His face is brightened and he quickly fumbles around to tie his shoes to his feet.  
Then we are off and into the dull night of the Seam.

  
The viewing is closer to the center of the District, so it is a walk to make it to where the others are already crowded in. There have been more watchers for this game than any I can remember. The spike in participation of the community is in reaction to how long Katniss and Peeta had been able to survive. Tributes from poorer Districts are known to die sometime in the first few days and nights of the games, but with every passing night Katniss and Peeta have both prevailed.

  
In Districts with more resources the game is rumored to stay constantly broad-casted so that no one misses a detail. However, in District 12 where the Head Peacekeepers has even disregarded the fencing, any wanting viewer has to wait until nightfall to see what will happen next.

  
I lead my brother to a table on the sidelines of the crowd to watch. It is ideal to sit outside of the crowd to keep my profile low. Some people, especially those from the Seam, know my connection to Katniss from having seen us walk together from school and to the Hob in the evening. No one was ignorant of action of me carrying a distraught Prim away from the reaping, so sometimes I get random questions from a nosy neighbor.

  
I don’t blame them, it isn’t as if there is much else to do in free time other than to gossip.

  
Tonight the screen comes to life with brief shots to summarize the what has happened during the daytime for the Districts less fortunate. The anthem of the Capitol plays and I am immediately sickened by it. There is no worse sound than the pride of the regime I hate.

  
The primary host, Caesar Flickerman, comes to life sitting in his usual chair on his usual over-the-top stage neatly sat up in the Capitol. Although I hate the people who call themselves the elite of Panem, I have a hard time bringing myself to completely distaste the host. He is at the least charismatic and over the course of the last few nights since the beginning of the games he has become a sickly friend of mine. He is a constant I depend on in telling me what has become of Katniss.

  
Tonight he is joined by Haymitch Abernathy, his name is proudly displayed in a block posted in the video. He is dressed nicely and looks almost sober if I didn’t know any better. I had seen Haymitch occasionally in the Hob where he was, of course, in the market for rare liquors. He was the only victory of our district and was known for drinking more than anyone else in the entire District, which includes the drunken Cray.

  
I never liked Haymitch. As a victor, he was meant to be a beacon of strength for our District but he had shown our people time and time again just how much of a coward he was. With drunken rants and false promises, he was all bark and no bite.

  
By far, he had been the worst mentor for any of the tributes seen in the past games. My trust in him keeping Katniss safe was nonexistent. She is going to come home and it is going to be because of her own merits not because of any ill-advice he has to offer. If she was to play the game smart she will just ignore the words of the fool.

  
“Haymitch! How great it is to see you!” Caesar greets him on stage. They are both sat perfectly in chairs for the interview. Haymitch offers a smile to Caesar that is grimly faked but it is not enough to throw the crafty Caesar off his trail.

  
“So, tell me, how is our favorite tributes doing?” The way Caesar references Katniss and Peeta makes me feel embarrassed for them.

  
“I wish I could say they are doing great,” Haymitch speaks carefully, as if every word is calculated, “But how can anyone be expected to be perfect under such circumstances.”

  
“You mean the arena? Don’t you believe the design was lovely this year?”

  
“No, no. I mean,” Haymitch fumbles over his words. It is obvious Caesar has thrown him off of his grace and Haymitch becomes noticeable frustrated by it. “I mean yes, quiet lovely, but that isn’t the point here. I mean their relationship, with one another. Peeta and Katniss are long time friends from back home. They have known each other all their lives. I have to say, this game is bringing quiet the strain to their relationship. It’s just heartbreaking to see, Caesar.”

  
I have never heard Haymitch string words together so coherently. I scoff at it. What is he talking about? They are no more friends than I am with Madge Undersee who is the pompous daughter of the mayor of District 12. Haymitch is putting on an act and I am not falling for it.

  
“Friends?” Caesar leans in closer to Haymitch as if he has given out some deeply guarded secret, ‘Tell me more.”  
“It is always a shame to watch friends walk into the arena together. Only one can come back. It is a harsh truth they both battled with in the days leading up to the start. They even requested I train them separately since the heartbreak was too much for them to bare.”

  
“Heartbreak!” Caesar exclaimed and I made up my mind that I have had enough of this interview. I wish they would just show what was actually important, what was happening in the arena, instead of this overplayed nonsense.  
“Gale,” my younger pries and I glance over to find him fixated on the screen. I regret bringing him with me because of his habit of adding commentary, “I thought you were Katniss’ best friend?”

  
“I am,” I answer shortly, quiet enough to keep from attracting the wondering ear, “They are just playing this up for the camera.”

  
“So, tell me Haymitch, when you valiantly won the pride of victor for your District, was it not against your _best friend_ as well?” Caesar pried and Haymitch shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

  
The rest of the conversation is dull and cut short by Haymitch who excuses himself from the stage. Whatever it is that Caesar wanted to talk about, Haymitch is not entertaining him and I could not be more grateful. I was ready to see where Katniss is and how she is doing. Any less time spent on these wayward idols is good time saved.

  
The screen roars to life with a canon fire the moment the camera focuses back in on the game. The canon means that someone has died. I force myself to not think of the worst. The name of the tribute along with their picture shows on screen and it is not Katniss.

  
Even though I know it is wrong, I feel the warmth of relief wash over my body to not have to read her name on the screen.

  
The video follows the travelings of several other tributes until finally coming to Katniss who has skillfully made a fire to cook her food. I am happy to see she is doing well despite her circumstances.

  
“There’s Katniss!” Rory says and the tone of his voice is enough to bubble up excitement in the back of my own throat. Rory loves Katniss because of the promises she makes him behind my back. I always knew there would be trouble when Katniss would follow me home from school. She infested Rory’s mind with all sorts of ideas that she would have killed me for if I ever shared them with Prim.

  
My attention is captured by Katniss abruptly standing and aiming her bow to the thick woods. This means there has to be threat nearby and she has heard it. The camera refocuses on a figure coming into the clearing. It is another tribute, a young girl, who can not be any older than Prim is.

  
Even though Katniss begins to lower her arrow I believe the young girl is a threat. The girl resembles Prim in age so well that I know Katniss is to become attached. Attachment means death in the game and I try to stifle my wondering thoughts as the girl approaches her.

  
After a brief introduction the crowd has learned that the girl’s name is Rue and the alliance between Katniss and her begins.

  
“I can fix your stings,” Rue offers to Katniss who questions her promptly. The screen did not bring justice to Katniss’ wounds which I now recognize look painful. I can not place the origin of the wounds but my best guess is wasps.  
How fitting, I think sorely, that Katniss were to be stung by the wasps.

  
Rue mentions that there is whippings in her District for those found to be eating the produce of their labor. I know what Katniss is thinking as her face is framed with disgust. Katniss and I should have been whipped many times over for our illegal hunting.

  
The two of them make their camp in the trees for the night, an invention of Katniss’ that I believe in ingenious. They whisper to one another and it is inaudible to the speakers until Katniss begins to speak of Peeta.

  
“I think he saved my life.”

  
I tighten my jaw and feel my lips draw a fine line. It is hard to hate Peeta, but he is far from my favorite person. He lived an okay life compared to the rest of the Seam children, his mother ran a bakery, and he looked far from starved when compared to the rest of us. However, in school and now in the games, Peeta has appeared to be a compassionate person so I could never bring myself to dislike him.

  
Still, I think he is a much worse companion to have than Rue. I wish I could speak to Katniss to tell her what a bad choice he would be as an ally. Peeta was the weak link among the presented tributes and I was not convinced he didn’t have a malicious plan hidden up his sleeve.

  
“Maybe he did save you and had to run?” Rue says and Katniss noticeably relaxes.

  
“If he did it then it was all probably just part of his act. You know, to make people think he’s in love with me.”  
I can’t stop myself and roll my eyes at the thought. Katniss in love with that baker’s son? Priceless. He was nothing to her or me. He wouldn’t make it out alive, anyhow.

  
“Oh, I didn’t think that was an act,” Rue says.

Of course it is an act, I think, it is obviously an act.

  
Then the video switches to follow none other than Peeta himself. He looks like he is starving, the familiar image of a hunched body easy to identify for anyone who has lived their life in District 12. There is several in the crowd watching who seem to become happy to see him. A stray cheer echoes from the otherwise silent conjugation. He is a likable figure for the District to root for.

  
Peeta has managed a fire all on his own and unlike the nights prior he is no longer accompanied by the career tributes he had made alliances with. I am not surprised to see this outcome. He had been left alone because he made the foolish choice to trust the fat cats who were no better than those in the Capitol.

  
I find it odd how familiar the landscape of Peeta’s camp is to that of Katniss’.

“He’s close to her,” Rory says and I shrug my shoulders in coy response.

  
“So what? She could kick his ass,” I respond. Of course she could. In my eyes even little Rue could take him if she needed to.

  
“You’re right, Katniss all the way,” Rory chimes in happily beside of me.

  
The night is finished by the camera detailing a random tribute. I walk Rory back home with me before the chiming of the curfew bell is able to toll on the sleepy District.

  
I hate to leave Katniss alone for the night but there is no way for me to reach her once the lights of the screen grow dark. The only way I can feel connected to her now is in my sleep, which is a far stretch since I know I will not sleep tonight just as I have not in the nights prior.

-x-

The next day I am up late in the morning from spending the night before worrying about Katniss and the games - the usual. Plagued by tiredness and dry eyes, I dress and head straight to the market. I sell a few things to the merchants and no one mentions the games to me. It is all business and small talk from them and I leave sooner than I had arrived.

  
Walking through the early morning of the Seam is one of the few solaces to be found inside of my home. The streets are quiet since today is Sunday and not even the men who work in the mine have to be up early. I find that Sunday mornings are the best for selling since not many have roamed to the market to take the spare change of the merchants, or even better the peacekeepers.

  
I make my way to the house of Cray knowing that he is my best bet at getting a generous offer.

  
I watch for the prying eyes of Peacekeepers as they follow my every move towards the front door of the lavish house. It is a bold move to walk up unannounced but I do so every Sunday that the hunt has been kind to me. Cray expects me here and I expect his payment in return.

  
I knock on the door and am answered quickly as if Cray had been watching me from a camera from inside his comforts the entire time.

  
“Gale,” Cray dryly greets and motions me inside.

  
The house is large and decorated with only the finest things. I believe most of the interior must be imported from the Capitol because it is foreign and uninviting against the gray that haunts the rest of the District.

  
“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Cray asks and I shake my head. He puts on a good face, one of compassion and sympathy, but I knew that Cray was no more than a coward. And not just that, he was also a murderer based on his chosen profession.

  
“I have venison,” I say and place down an offering on the entrance table.

  
“Good, good,” Cray praises and something about his tone makes me uncomfortable. This isn’t new, from the reputation that Cray has he consistently makes me uncomfortable.

  
There is the sound of giggling from a room over and it sounds like the voice of a girl. A young girl at that. I know the secret Cray is keeping but I choose my battles. It is the only way I can continue to support the families that need me.

  
Cray smiles awkwardly and I resist the urge to hit him. I would give anything if only to be able to give him what he deserved, even once.

  
“So,” Cray begins as he counts out the money he owes me, “Have you been enjoying in the games?”

  
It is a cruel question that I have a hard time placing as general conversation or mischievous jabbing.

  
“As much as anyone,” I say, giving him my most generic answer.

  
“And Katniss? How is she doing?”

  
“Well,” I say and I can’t help but allow a small dose of anger to rise in my tone, “She is doing just fine.”

  
“Indeed. Of course she is! She is a fine young lady, after all.”

  
I want to forget why I am here and make Cray eat his words. Katniss had once considered going to Cray to sell herself for his gifts and payments. She had spoken to me about this only twice, once as a joke and another time as a serious commitment. I had grown angry with her but I knew why she had suggested it. We had not been having any luck with hunting then, both being new to the trade, and Katniss was starving. I forced her to see that she was better off without him and Katniss eventually stopped talking about it with me.

  
She is meant to have better than this disgusting man’s undressing gaze.

  
There is rumor that Cray valued not only young woman but men too. It is that rumor that has caused me to feel more awkward in his presence then I have before.

  
“This should be sufficient,” Cray hands me a bag filled with coins and motions me to the door, “Have a nice day, Gale.”

  
I leave with sickness in the pit of my stomach.

  
The day is still young and I first make a stop at the Everdeen’s house. I am greeted warmly by Prim who looks as tired as I do, if not more so. She accepts my offers of bread and meat, along with a few spare coins from the payment I had gotten from Cray, and explains to me that her mother is not feeling well.

  
“Is she ever?” I say and Prim frowns at me. I quickly recover by redirecting her attention, “How is Buttercup?”

  
“Did you see Katniss?” Prim interrupts me. I know she doesn’t mean did I actually see her but if I watched the game the night before.

  
“I did.”

  
“How is she?”

  
I don’t have the heart to tell Prim that she was hurt by the wasps that had stung her. The Capitol provided the Everdeen’s with their own personal television to watch the games but Mrs. Everdeen had made great haste to lock it away in the shed behind their property the moment it arrived.

  
“She is doing great, Prim,” I smile and Prim relaxes. I know she trusts me to tell her what is happening, since her mother will not allow her to go to the square to watch for herself. It is probably for the best that Prim hears the events through my filtered retelling.

  
“Has she made any friends?”

  
This question I do not have to falsify like many of the others. “Sure she has. A girl, Rue, is with her. She is actually about your age.”

  
Prim’s smile is haunting with weary eyes to match. She must have not stopped crying since Katniss left and her face reveals this secret by how puffy her eyes are. Prim had been excused from school since the day of the Reaping, which was a common formality towards grieving families.

  
“Good,” Prim says, “Make me a promise?”

  
“Anything.”

  
‘That you’ll keep watching for me. For her.”

  
I nod and offer the only promise I am able to make her, “Of course I will.”

  
I leave the Everdeen’s when the sun begins to set. I make an effort to spend some of my spare time with them, what little there is. I have begun to fill the role of an elder sibling in Katniss’ absence because I know she is counting on me to be a constant in Prim’s life. I wish that I could say I was filling in Katniss’ role for myself, too.

  
There is a lack of Peacekeepers in the streets since most of them are in the town square so I am able to enjoy my walk instead of feeding into the bite of paranoia. I let my feet lead me back to the viewing area so that I can fulfill my nightly duty of watching the screens. I am met with a surprising, yet familiar face, when I arrive.

  
Madge is sitting on the bench I occupied the night before. Her hair is done nicely and she is wearing a dress made from fabric no one in the Seam could even dream of touching. Madge and I have never been friends but I have never went out of my way to be particularly mean to her. As far as I could judge she was a decent person, no matter how strongly the perfume of the Capitol reeked from her.

  
It was not until the day of the Reaping that I found myself grow a tinge of hatred for her. Madge had presented herself to Katniss and I before and she had been adorned by a beautiful gray dress. Unknowingly, I complimented her on it, and Madge explained that the dress was meant to stand for a symbol of District 12 in case she was reaped. In hindsight, the overall gesture was probably in good intentions and I realized this; but it had angered me so that she would dare to create such an event out of the Reaping. Kids were being sent off to be murdered, Katniss had been sent off to fight for her life, and Madge had made a play out of it.

  
I didn’t want to join her at the bench but other than standing in the middle of the crowd it was my only option. I could see the screen much better from the sitting place than if I were to be surrounded by people. My viewing time was in much higher importance than my comfortability, not that I would have any in watching this.

  
“Hi,” I greet Madge and sat down across from her at the table. Her eyes catch mine and I swear that I see a glimmer of fear, or perhaps annoyance, in her expression. Her lips, brightly painted in makeup, are pressed firmly against each other in what I can assume is in opposition of me.

  
“Hi,” Madge says and turns her attention back to the screen where the anthem is proudly blaring.

  
We remain quiet as Caesar introduces himself to us, as if we didn’t already know who he was, and then goes over the summary for the night. There is no news on Katniss or Rue in the briefing and as usual I am relieved, yet anxious, to know that she had not been up to anything noteworthy in the time I was away from her.

  
I want to ask Madge what she is doing here. I know it is unfair but I am irritated by her presence, as if her being is an attempt to make a statement against me. As if she is a better friend to Katniss than me.

  
Who has been watching over things since she has been gone? I think but I do not speak these words. Even with the growing distaste in my moth I know better than to start a war with the Mayor’s daughter.

  
“Did you watch last night?” Madge asks and I guess she is attempting to strike up some kind of conversation with me. There is an edge to her voice that gives away that she has something to say and I don’t care to find out what.  
The screen is following a tribute that I don’t know the name of and so I am left with no distraction other than her. “Sure,” I answer and give her no more explanation.

  
Madge stays quiet. I watch her grimace as the tribute on screen finds their way into a trap of wasps, which Caesar enlightens us in his commentary are called ‘tracker jackers.’ Madge beings to chew at her nails, and her leg bounces steadily against the wood frame of the table. It is the first time I have seen her ruin her groomed exterior. I want to tell her to stop but I realize it is a show of stress. Why is she worried about it if this is all just a _game_ to her?

  
“Gale,” Madge says, pronouncing the syllable of my name slowly, as if it is a curse, “You don’t have to speak to me.”  
I huff, of course, I don’t owe her a damn thing. Katniss had spoken about Madge a few times when we had been out hunting but otherwise I just knew the basic fact that she came from money. Enough money that she never had to worry about anything and that included if the tributes lived or died. In my opinion she had no reason being here.  
“But I need you to understand this,” Her eyes are on mine and there is an intensity there, a darkening, that I had not expected to find, “Katniss was my friend too.”

  
This statement adds fuel to the fire I already had stored for her. I clench my jaw to stop myself from giving my piece up to her. Something about her eyes, how concerned they were, tells me that she could be telling the truth. However, this was a challenge, and not one I wanted entertain.

  
“Like you ever did anything for her,” I say under my breath but Madge catches me.

  
“Whatever, Gale,” She dismisses me with a turn of her hand, “You may not realize but I am in classes with both of them. I love them both dearly. Katniss and Peeta are my friends.”

  
“I used to sit with Katniss during lunch everyday. She was my only close friend, Gale. I told her more about myself than I have ever told anyone else. I would appreciate it if you would drop the act, like you were the only one she ever cared about.”

  
I begin to retaliate, poison dripping from the end of my tongue, but Madge waves her hand to silence me. Why has she become such an irritation of mine lately?

  
“I have something to tell you,” Madge says, “I overheard my Father talking to Haymitch on the phone yesterday. He said something about you being her cousin.”

  
“Her cousin?”

  
Madge nods, “Yes. I don’t know what it is about but they said clearly that you were her cousin and that her father was your father’s brother. I thought you might want to know before someone tells you.”

  
My irritation at Madge melts and for now she has gotten my attention. What could they mean? That I am her cousin? What would it matter to them anyhow? There was no way this was from Katniss herself, she would never have called me anything other than what I was. She may not know how strongly I care for her but she knows that we are, at the least, best friends. Something was not adding up about Madge’s story, but why would she lie to me?

  
Maybe Madge wants to hurt me.

  
This was the only rational conclusion I can think of.

  
Madge shrugs her shoulders at me and turns back to the screen. I want to pry more into her story but Katniss is now the star of the screen. Some tributes are not revisited by the camera on a regular basis but Katniss has become a favorite of the screen and I am grateful for it.

  
I don’t know what Katniss has been up to but she seems to be in a hurry to get somewhere or to find something. She is searching, taking the stance to scan her surroundings that I had seen many times when we had been hunting. I realize quickly that Rue is missing from her. That must be who she is looking for.

  
Katniss has knelt down to conceal herself in the thick of bushes when there is a song from a bird that catches her attention.

  
I relax, guessing that this song must be a sign that everything is okay. Katniss seems to relax too and for a moment I can imagine that we are not apart from each other.

  
Then I hear a loud scream echo from the speakers. It’s the scream of a child, a young girl, and Katniss is quick on the move to find the source of the sound.

  
“Oh no,” Madge whispers and I think that for once we agree on something to say.

  
“Rue!” Katniss shouts desperately, “Rue! I’m coming!”

  
She makes her way into a clearing and it looks of danger. Things are to still, I think, and as soon as Katniss is able to reach the girl the camera moves to show a tribute sneaking in from the bushes just in front of them.

  
Katniss doesn’t see him. I see everything in slow action, the tribute raises a spear and then tosses it. I jolt up from my seat in an urgency to help her but there is nothing I can do from the other side of the screen.

  
The spear pierces through Rue’s body and my heart breaks for a girl I had never even known.

  
Katniss is quick to react, reaching for her bow with such a grace that is only known to her hands, and shoots down the tribute dead in his tracks.

  
I glance to Madge. She has covered her mouth with her hands. I can’t see her face but I know she has to be as surprised as I am.

  
Katniss searches for more intruders, shouts to Rue to tell her where they are, but the time has run out for the girl now lying on the ground. The camera focuses on her body, the light fading fast from her eyes, and she reaches out a hand to find Katniss’.

  
Rue is barely able to mutter a question to Katniss before she is choking up blood.

  
The normally quiet crowd of District 12 has begun to grow unsteady. There are shouts about how unfair the death is and about how young Rue is. I scan the faces of the strangers of my community and find unrest and anger lacing them.

  
There is a shift in the energy of my people, one like I have never known. My usual disappointment in the cowards has begun to fade at their sighting of blood pooling in the corners of Rue’s mouth.

  
“You have to win,” Rue says, her focus fixated on Katniss.

  
Rue pulls Katniss tightly. Her small frame supporting just enough strength to beckon Katniss closer to her, “Sing.”

  
My throat grows tight as Katniss begins to suffer a somber tune. A lullaby, one that the children of District 12 learned in school, an old mountain tune. A hopeful song that promises the listener of a tomorrow kinder than the day. A song that Katniss had sang to me deep in the woods when we had been alone with one another. _The Meadow Song_.

  
Then there is the alarming sound of a single shot.

-x-

Everything is still and quiet. No one seems to know what to do. There has never been such a sound to awaken the community, no preparation for what to do in the midst of a riot being born.

  
I know immediately that this previously safe space would shortly be overrun by violence.

  
“Madge,” I am quick on my feet to reach her. I may not like her, hell I may even distaste her, but what is brewing in the air, this electric energy, does not spell a future I wish on her or me.

  
There is shouts from the crowd and Peacekeepers are darting out of every dark corner they had been watching from.  
“Unfair!” One voice shouts. “Unjust!” Cries another.

  
“She was just a child!”

  
I take Madge’s hand firmly in mine and force her to her feet. The order of the crowd has been tossed around now as if there were a great gust of wind that had knocked them around.

  
I hear only static as the next shot is fired.

  
“What is happening?” Madge shouts over the fire. Her eyes are wet with tears and her mouth has fallen open in shock.

  
“We have to go!” I command and pull her along behind me and into the throws of the crowd.

  
There is chaos coming from each angle. Bodies are pushing against me as I chart my path through the crowd. I keep a tight grasp on Madge’s hand, vowing not to loose her to the crowd. She is shouting for me to stop, pulling against my forceful grasp, but I will not let her go.

  
I will not loose someone else to this disgusting game.

  
A part of me is proud of my district for their strong awakening, but another is terrified. I have wished for so long for my people to come to their senses and stand up against the Capitol that I had never stopped to think about what it might actually mean for them to meet my desire.

  
A man is pushed onto his back and people are trampling him as if he were not even there. With a third fire there is even grater alarm in the people and the crowd begins to migrate towards the streets of the District to flee. No one stops to help the man to his feet. I am startled by his eyes for a brief second before he is hidden in the throws of the mob.

  
With shoulder to back, and foot planted firmly in front of me with every step, I force my escape from the crowd and into a branching alleyway.

  
Others have had the same idea but Madge and I have the opportunity to make the break before them.  
I ran and after a few blocks have let go of Madge’s hand. By this time, she has stopped shouting at me and resorts to blindly following me instead.

  
I don’t dare to look behind me as I make my way down the streets towards my home. The city square is located farther from the Seam than is desired but I know I have to make it home before the commotion comes any closer to it.

  
“Gale, stop!” Madge pleads and I halt just to have the time to find her behind me, “I have to go home!”

  
Madge and her father lived in what I assumed was an apartment above Town Hall. The only way for her to be able to reach it was if she chanced going back where the shots had first begun. There were more of them now, ringing from behind us, and I shake my head in opposition to her terrible plan.

  
“You can’t, it’s not safe,” I shout but I am not able to hear my own voice over the screams echoing from behind, “Come with me! You’ll be safe.”

  
Madge looks to weigh her options. She has to know as well as I do how little time we have before the others catch back up with us.

  
Finally, she begins to move again and we both fall into a steady run until we reach my house.

  
I rush to open the door and let us both in before slamming it behind me. Frantically I force my shaking hands to lock it.

  
“Gale?” My mother is there in the living room, her face filled with concern and confusion, “What is it? What is happening outside?”

  
“Stay in,” I command and draw the blinds of the entrance, “Rory, Vick, Posy! Shut the shudders. Quickly!”

  
I trust they will all abide by me even though their is a choir their concerns shouted to follow.

  
“Someone died,” I face my mother who is now securing the kitchen, “Someone died, and -”

  
I can not find the words to suffice. My breathe is caught sore in my throat as I am able to stop for the first time since the first shot.

  
Was this real? Had I just ran from a riot?

  
_Prim_.

  
This commotion is sure to reach them sooner then later. I start to leave but am blocked by Madge at the door.  
“No,” She says, trying to catch her own breath, “It is not safe.”

  
I hate to have my own words thrown back at me but I know she is right. There is nothing that I can do to protect them from this. Hopefully I can trust that neither Prim nor Mrs. Everdeen have ventured far from where I left them earlier that day.

  
The sounds of gunshots and yelling continue for an hour. My mother, my siblings, Madge, and I all sit in the living room taking up the seating and the floor until there is the first break of silence from the world outside of us.

  
I do not know what to say and neither do they. We sit in silence for a while until there is finally complete silence.

  
“What happened?” My mother is the first to speak, repeating her question from earlier.

  
I still don’t have the words to explain the energy of the crowd or the gunshots that I assumed were from Peacekeepers. All my life I had lived in a docile community of cowards unwilling to take a stand against the murdering of children, many of which were our own. Now I was sitting in the aftermath of an uprising.

  
“An uprising,” Madge says as if she was able to read my thoughts.

  
Katniss was miles away, but her friendship with Rue has just sparked a rebellion in our home.

\---

 **Author’s Note:**  
Hello! I hope you enjoyed the start of my new fan-fiction. The current plan is to upload on Sundays, but in case that goal is short sighted I will leave updates on my profile about following chapters. I appreciate any reviews you leave so please feel write one before you go. I apologize now for any tense mix ups up in this chapter. Thank you for reading!


End file.
